


A Fine Time

by Janina



Series: For the Night is Dark [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/M, Halloween!, Light Smut, mentions of gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:33:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26981452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/pseuds/Janina
Summary: It's the zombie apocalypse y'all!
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: For the Night is Dark [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1502078
Comments: 11
Kudos: 86





	A Fine Time

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you @mynameisnoneya for this gorgeous picset! 
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/dRGrvnr)  
> 

There was a zombie growling and sniffing the air in the middle of the road. 

Jon and Sansa had learned to keep as still as possible when they came upon them. The zombies had ears like bats. 

And while they felt somewhat safer inside the abandoned house they were squatting in, the last thing they wanted was for the thing to know they were there. It wouldn’t let up until it got to them, and it could draw more to the house. The last thing the pair wanted was to be trapped inside with zombies clamoring to break in outside. 

This was like Night of the Living Dead, Jon thought. The remake, not the original. In the original you saw nothing to make your stomach turn, it was just all in your head. In the remake, it was all there, blood, guts, and gore. 

And he and Sansa had seen more than they wanted to over the past couple days. He’d never seen intestines before. Nor had he ever seen or imagined what it would look like if a human struck with super strength took a chunk out of your neck. But he saw that at the Stark homestead. Sansa’s little brother Rickon had been bitten and turned. And then he’d taken a chunk out Ned, and that’s when he and Sansa, and Robb and Arya escaped. 

They’d gotten separated from Robb and Arya though, and Gods knew if they were alive still. 

The zombie outside turned toward the house and Jon heard Sansa’s soft but sharp inhale. 

Jon held his breath, his mind going a hundred miles a minute, thinking how he saw a lighter in the kitchen and there were logs scattered on the floor in the living room as though someone had been about to start a fire and had been interrupted. 

Attacked most likely considering the blood on the walls. 

The zombie staggered forward toward the house and Sansa reached out and gripped Jon’s arm. 

And then it looked away, down the street, and ran off. 

They stood still for a long time after, listening and watching. 

And then, together, they let out a relieved sigh. 

“I think he was the only one on this street,” Sansa whispered. 

“I think you’re right,” Jon replied. 

Sansa let go of his arm. “I think I saw a phone charger in the kitchen.”

Jon followed her, careful of where he was going as the only light they had was the near Full Moon. 

There was indeed a charger and Sansa rejoiced softly when it fit her phone. “We’ll do yours next,” she told him. She frowned as her fingers moved across the screen. 

“Nothing from Robb or Ayra I take it?” Jon asked. 

Sansa shook her head and put her phone down. A sob escaped and she clapped a hand over her mouth and hunched into herself. 

Without a word, Jon drew her into his arms. He knew he had to smell. They’d been running all day, and he had blood on him from an earlier attack. Sansa didn’t seem to care though. She buried her face in his chest and sobbed her heart out. 

Jon felt his own tears come. The Starks were his second family. His mother was in Paris and he’d try calling her for the past two days and had gotten voicemail each and every time. He didn’t want to consider the idea that that could mean she was dead. 

“This is the absolutely worst,” he said, his voice trembling. 

She let out a little laugh and lifted her head to look up at him. “Understatement of the year.” She wiped her nose with the back of her shirt sleeve. It was a move Jon never thought he’d see Robb’s little sister do. She had always been so poised and put together. A lady-woman. 

But today, she had fought zombies off. She’d even beheaded one. He’d wanted to ask her how she’d learned to fight, but there had been no time. It was every man for himself in this terrifying new world. 

Just yesterday everything was normal. They were all going along living their lives...and then all hell had broken loose and now here they were fighting for their lives - and not just against the walking dead. There were people running unwilling to stop and help, people not helping the fallen, people shooting other people to get a car, a weapon, and water. 

Jon and Sansa laid low, sneaking through backyards and keeping away from the chaos of the main roads. Their only goal was to survive. 

“Where’d you learn to fight?” he asked her softly. 

She frowned slightly and pushed away from him. He instantly wanted her back, and not just because he was in love with Sansa and had been for a very long time, but because he needed more comfort, more knowing that he wasn’t alone. That they were both safe and alive and together. 

“Arya is not the only one who can learn to fight,” she said, a bit angrily. “This world was crazy enough before today. A woman in this day and age is better served knowing how to protect herself.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you, Sansa,” Jon said. 

She shrugged it off. “It’s fine. We should barricade the door. Help me move the fridge?”

“We should check all the doors and windows on this floor,” Jon said and Sansa nodded in agreement. 

Twenty minutes later they had checked all the locks on the windows and barricaded the back door with a storage cabinet. 

They made their way up to the second floor and walked through each of the rooms. There were three bedrooms - one master bedroom and two smaller bedrooms. One a boys room, they guessed probably a teenager, and a girl probably really young based on the overflow of children’s toys and Disney Princess stuff. There was a full bathroom as well and they both gazed at the shower longingly. 

“I wonder if that zombie was one of the former inhabitants of this house,” Sansa murmured. 

“Could be,” Jon said softly. 

“A shower might be too loud,” she whispered. 

“Probably,” Jon replied. “I saw four or five gallons of water by the back door. Maybe we could at least wash each other’s hair and then take a sponge bath?”

Sansa scrubbed a hand down her face and nodded. “And change our clothes. Hopefully something here fits us both.”

Jon gripped her hand and squeezed. “Let’s go.”

Fifteen minutes later they had the water plus towels and washcloths. While Jon rummaged in the walk in closet of the master bedroom, using his dying phone to go through the clothes, Sansa stood before the mirror in the bathroom and considered her hair. 

It was long, down to her ass. Too long to take care of, really. It would take more than a jug of water to just get it all wet. She started opening drawers in the wooden cabinet under the sink and found a pair of scissors. 

Jon came into the bathroom then holding some clothes. “I think I found some stuff we could wear,” he said. “They might be a little big but -- what are you doing?”

He looked worried, as though he thought she was planning to kill herself or something. 

“I need to cut my hair,” she said and held them out to him. “My hair is too long to take care of right now, plus it could be grabbed easily at this length. I need you to cut it.”

Jon just stared at her. He couldn’t imagine all that gorgeous red hair gone. 

But he also wanted Sansa alive. 

She rolled her eyes and put the scissors down and then rummaged in the drawers again. “Jackpot,” she muttered when she found one lone hair tie. She pulled her hair back and into a ponytail until it rested against her neck and then picked up the scissors and held them out again to Jon. This time he took them. “Cut above the hair tie. It doesn’t have to be pretty, it just needs to be done.”

Jon heaved a sigh, nodded, and then set his jaw as he went to work at cutting her hair. It was harder than he’d thought, but finally it was done. “Your hair is thick,” he said. 

She nodded, tears in her eyes as she fingered her newly shorn hair. “Thank you for doing that.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered. 

She bent down, picked up her cut hair and threw it in the trash nearby and straightened. “Now will you help me wash it?”

“Of course.”

After Sansa, it was Jon’s turn and Sansa found she very much enjoyed being able to run her fingers through Jon’s hair. She’d always wanted to, though in her fantasies she wasn’t washing it but playing with it at her leisure. Because in her fantasy he belonged to her and she could. 

She took great fun in towel drying his curls and he laughed softly, his eyes closed as he stood to full height to look at her. 

A moment passed. Then another. Then Jon was reaching out and pushing the towel off her head. Slowly, he reached out and pushed some hair from her face. “I like it,” he said quietly. 

“It’s definitely different,” she said lightly. 

He licked his lips and Sansa licked hers, watching him. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “Sansa, I--”

She lunged forward and kissed him and he gripped her tightly in his arms and kissed her back hungrily. Hands reached for clothes and discarded them. And then Sansa was bent over the sink, her hands clutching it as Jon pounded into her. 

He grunted, she grabbed a towel and stuck it in her mouth to muffle her cries. What a fine time to finally have sex with Jon Snow. 

Sex with him had literally been the last thing on her mind since the zombie apocalypse actually arrived, but this...Gods, it felt so good. She loved him, yes, but this was not about love. This was about celebrating the fact that they were still alive, that they had each other, and needing some kind of release of the pain and fear and uncertainty that had consumed them for the past two days. 

Her orgasm came swift, and Jon followed right after. He groaned softly and bent over her, kissing her shoulder. “I love you,” he whispered. 

She shut her eyes, holding those words close to her heart. She wanted to remember the sound of his voice, the huskiness to it, the desperation laced into it, and the awe. She wanted it to be a sweet memory she could cling to in case he--

She shook her head, dismissing the thought. She couldn’t think about that. If she did, she wouldn’t be able to go on fighting. She would be paralyzed with fear. So, she turned, framed his face in her hands, and whispered, “I love you, too.”


End file.
